


Church I Wish You Were Born A Girl

by bahorel



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bahorel/pseuds/bahorel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for RVB Shipping Jamboree, Winter 2014.</p><p>"Church/Anyone, space pirates AU."</p><p>Inspired in part by "Tim I Wish You Were Born A Girl" by Of Montreal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Church I Wish You Were Born A Girl

High noon found them running from the law across the hostile surface of an alien planet, and not for the first time. There was a sheriff, a bounty hunter, and an angry mob on their heels, all strung out across the plains one after another and here they were nearly to the _Texas_ and outpacing all of them.

“Leonard Church and Lavernius Tucker, you are under arrest for seventy-one counts of thievery, thirty counts of aggravated assault, and six counts of resisting arrest!”

“Don’t forget one count of doing your mom!” Tucker hollered back over his shoulder. Church was tempted to trip him and see what happened when the baby-faced sheriff and his mother caught up, but Tucker was carrying half the loot and that Church was not willing to lose.

The moment they skidded into the loading bay, Church started yelling at Grif to close the goddamn door and get them the hell out of here. Only a few yards down the line, the sheriff was huffing and puffing after them with a frankly enormous and cumbersome gun, no doubt as compensation for the smaller and less potent gun inside his tight pants. He stopped now and raised it to his shoulder, sighting down the barrel as the _Tex_ ’s hatch door began to creak closed with agonizing slowness.

“I dare you, asshole!” Tucker was yelling through the opening. “You know you want to shoot that thing off in my face! Hahaha! That’s what—“

Before the sheriff actually could shoot that thing off in Tucker’s face, Church tackled him to the ground. They hit the floor with a painful thump, twisting in mid-air to protect their precious stolen goods instead of their vitals. As they were getting to their hands and knees, Grif fired the engines, sending them tumbling over one another all over again.

“What the hell was that?” Tucker demanded, opening his knapsack to paw through the loot and make sure that everything was present and undamaged. “I was fine! Jesus!”

Church was too winded by his fall to respond for several seconds. He sat up, blinking the black spots from his vision, and then turned his glare on Tucker. “You were about to get your ugly face blown off,” he snapped. “So you’re fucking welcome. Next time I’ll just let you get face-fucked by a gay backwoods cop.” He jumped to his feet, snatching up both knapsacks, and strode towards the hold to secure their winnings. Tucker bade him farewell with the middle-finger salute.

His cheeks were still warm with humiliation. The insinuation that he would have been the one getting fucked—that he would have been fucking a man at all!—was a blow to his pride. He might not have been much of a soldier or much of a pirate, but he prided himself on his power over the ladies. An eyelash flutter didn’t trigger complete paralysis like it did for Simmons, and he wouldn’t ramble uncomfortably about unrelated subjects like Church. He just got down to business, and they didn’t call him the best closer in Blood Gulch for nothing.

Okay, they didn’t call him that, but they should.

He picked himself up from the floor and started for the mess hall. If anyone was acting gay around here, it was Church for bothering to be worried about him at all. No one this side of the galaxy knew the truth, and he was determined to keep it that way.

 

They off-loaded their treasure on a watery planet close to the system’s sun and lush with life. Afterwards, Church gave the crew the day off. Grif disappeared into a bar almost immediately, and after some whining Simmons followed him. Grif’s sister was spotted only once, standing in the mouth of an alley lip-locked with a very happy town girl. Tucker wanted to stay and watch, but Church pulled him away forcibly by the collar of his shirt. He wanted to distance himself as much as possible from the sexual proclivities of his crew.

“I can’t believe how much goddamn cash we got from those antiques,” Church marveled as they left the liquor store on the edge of town, cradling a bottle of champagne each in their arms. “Like, do they have so much money that they don’t know what to do with it, or do they just really like staring at half-cracked flower pots?”

“Uh, I think they’re called vases. Where are we going?” They had been strolling aimlessly through the streets for half an hour now, but the buildings were devolving into houses, and the houses into farms. Now the sky was cradling the earth uninterrupted by the skyline, all blue and dotted with fat white clouds, and flowers grew untamed in the grass around the grain fields.

“Does it matter?”

“What if we get lost, though?”

Church’s head snapped around ninety degrees. “Excuse me? What the fuck is wrong with you? When have I _ever_ gotten lost?”

“There was that time in the woods—”

“Shut the f—”

“—and trying to find that buyer on—”

“I hate you so fucking m—”

“—probably countless times in deep space—”

“— _not_ my fault, blame Grif!” He elbowed Tucker in the side. Tucker yelped and shoved him off the road, sending him flat on his ass. “Wait—the champagne.” They set the bottles side by side and then leapt at one another again, wrestling and kicking and crushing daisies under their backs.

“Did you just try to bite me?”

“I had to make you let go of me s—”

“You’re gross! Ow! Fucking h— ”

“Haha! That’s what you get, asshole!”

“That’s what _you_ get!”

“Hey! I think that was my spleen!”

“You don’t even know where your goddamn spleen is, idiot. It’s in your chest.”

“It is _not_ in your chest. It’s in your pelvic area.”

“You think everything is in your pelvic area!”

They tired themselves out at last, and laid side-by-side in the grass, their chests rising and falling rapidly. Church recovered first, sitting up to reach for one of the bottles and uncork it. Champagne ran down his chin; the delicate flesh of his throat moved as he swallowed. There was a freckle beside his right eye, like a lone star. Tucker wasn’t sure that he had ever loved anything more than that freckle. “I wish you were born a girl,” he said.

Church set the bottle down. “What?”

“I wish you were born a girl,” he said. “So I could have been your boyfriend. I just never met a girl I liked as much as you.”

They were quiet. Tucker sat up and drank from the bottle. Church ripped up a fistful of grass, then rubbed the purple circles under his eyes and looked at Tucker. “Jeeeee-sus Christ.”

“Yeah, no shit.” The few inches of space between them were insulated steel. They should have just stayed in town and hooked themselves a couple of bar babes. Out here, the sun warmed their skin and brightened their eyes and left only short shadows on the daisies behind them. Church scooted closer and leaned an elbow on Tucker’s shoulder.

“Tucker, I kind of wish you were born a girl too,” he admitted, and handed him the champagne bottle.


End file.
